TRAIL DAY 27

Fri, Mar 18, 2016 Theo and I awoke to a beautiful sunrise over the lake as the intense, bright-white light of a new day cast a restful lemon-orange glow over morning’s rippling clouds and the lake’s quick-silver depths and distant mountain peaks rising into the dawn while nearby forests clung to the fragile dark of night.

I’d heard that there was cell service at the marina and perhaps coffee.  There was a long ramp down to the water where the marina floated on pontoons to rise or fall with the depth of the lake.  North Carolina was having a dry spell so the lake was very low.  I went down and explained the issue with the phone.  The clerk said he could hold it for the owner if I could let them know where it was.  I found an outlet to charge my tablet and then a female hiker who let me use her phone.  She would be leaving soon.

There was a large covered deck at the back of the marina.  I went there with a cup of coffee to make my calls.  I happily reached Donna and told her my error.  She would send the helper to get his phone at the marina.  Relief.  I then called Bonnie for a brief chat before returning the phone to the owner.

It was time to pack up and depart.  On another dry, sunny day, there were only 1.6 miles to Fontana Dam, another landmark, like Mountain Crossing and the NOC, that anyone studying the trail would hear about time and again.

En route we passed by the notorious and potentially lethal Fontana Hilton (0.1E).  I steered clear and headed west instead up a road where cars were parked.  A cute gal with the trail name “Bic” was sitting on the stone wall there and I joined her for idle conversation about the Hilton.  While we were sitting there, before the next big climb, an elderly gentleman came up to us and asked if we had seen Shrink.  Bic said she had and the man asked how far back he was.  She guesstimated and he said he was Shrink’s uncle and considered himself his “Rolling Resupplier.”

I set out for the dam first following a road down a long descent to water lever.

There was nothing spectacular about the dam other than the fact that all dams are spectacular.  There were signs directing us around construction down to a Visitor’s Center.  There were a few people outside but they didn’t know what the signs were for or if we needed to check in our something before crossing the dam.

The Center was closed, so I climbed back up and made my way around construction equipment and across the dam.  On the far side a road led off to the right bringing us at last to the NOBO’s first government-controlled section of the AT.

A turnoff into the woods led to a message board.  It addressed BACKCOUNTRY INFORMATION, the permit requirement, regulations, safety and touched on the Leave No Trace (LNT) policy.  There are a lot of expressions of this policy but its basic tenent is self-evident.  Leave wherever you stop to eat and wherever you camp just as Mother Nature would have it so when others come along they’ll have no idea that someone preceded them.  Nature and only Nature is to be evident.  The only things to be buried are feces, toilet paper, if used, and coals from an extinguished fire.  Otherwise pack out whatever you pack in: wrappings, food, foil, plastic caps or containers, cigarette butts – ANYTHING & EVERYTHING!

And why not dispense with a little bit of advice on deep forest “bathroom” habits.  It is recommended to dig a 6″ cathole before doing your business.  Good aim helps here.  You can hold a tree and lean back, squat free style or, my preferred method, find an elevated log to sit on with your thighs.  This method was the most comfortable and, you might say, the most like home.  Here are some cautions with this technique: the log shouldn’t be too low or too high; it should not be apt to break from your weight; and, I learned the hard way, it should be free  of little flesh-eating buggers living in it.  Regardless, do your business at least 200′ from the trail or other places people are likely to be.  You can find advice on this and most any thru-hike issue on YouTube.

Bottom line: respect Mother Nature and her visitors – be one who really cares for them both.

Well, the powers that be in the Smokys wanted to remind us of some trail matters.  They also wanted us to deposit our permits in a box.

From the message board we entered a 2000′ climb up to Birch Spring Gap where I would spend the night.  During this climb, away from the message board, into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I tried to follow the rules, one in particular: I would keep Theo on a leash.  Now, I can understand if the dog is an aggressive roamer and chaser who is going to be all over people and their food and stuff – sure – LEASH HIM!  But, you’ve got to meet Theo to know that a leash serves no purpose whatever.  He is pure love and on the trail, he simply does his job and then some.  He checks on me always!  And he never leaves the trail; he never chases anything and he never barks at anything.

Well, early on he played brave protector and would bark when anyone dared approach our turf from any direction – but he soon learned the ropes and stopped that as well.  In due course, by bears, deer, even a fawn, he did absolutely nothing – stayed right in the trail and right behind me without a peep.

Well, I tried to be an obedient hiker and leashed him.  I had gotten out the homemade, green, vinyl-covered cable and wrapped most of it around my waist and clipped the loose end to Theo’s collar or saddle bag loop and off we went, compliant campers.

It instantly became all about the leash.  Was Theo on my left?  Was he on my right?  Is he going over or under the fallen tree?  You can imagine the fun if under.  Step over the leash to the right, then to the left.

One time, I stepped over the leash on a steep incline and my pack weight took care of what happened next.  Shoulders went back, pack went down and I followed – WHAM!  Happily my pack took the brunt of the fall.

I rolled off the trail and down a grade to help me get up.  Back on my feet I resolved NO LEASH!  Go ahead and fine me – I’m not doing the leash thing.

Back to normal.  Freedom of movement and lots of love.  We were doing the trail together again and all was well.

It must have been within the first half mile that a young hiker came up behind me and said “Hi” as he passed.  He wasn’t 100 feet away when he turned around and asked me if I had lost a pair of glasses.  I reached to my face and was astonished.  They were gone!  He pulled a pair of glasses from a shirt pocket and they were mine!  I thanked him profusely.  He said he had put them in his pocket and wasn’t going to say anything but felt prompted to inquire.

The fall had been so jarring that my glasses fell off and I was completely unaware of it.  My distance vision is not so bad that I would notice right away.

This was the first of many saves.  I asked the kind hiker’s name: Logan Wilburn.  I say again now, “Thanks, Logan.”  He typifies the human side of the trail experience.  “Thanks.”

Somewhere along this climb, Bic came along.  We hiked together for a little while and then she passed me.  AWOL says that the Birch Spring Gap campsite was 100 yards down a slope from the trail and that it had tent pads.  I remember this slope, looking off to my right as I arrived, and seeing a campfire going about 50 yards farther down.  Twenty-somethings were enjoying the fire and seemed to occupy the area around it.  I was happy to walk farther into the site across a stream that was flowing nicely though noted by AWOL to be unreliable.  Up the hill on the other side we came to tent pads.  The near ones were occupied so I kept walking and found one on the hillside.  As I set up my tent, I saw that Bic had set up hers just downhill from where I was.

I probably set up my tent first and then got water back at the stream.  I remember well positioning myself over the stream to collect the water.  I don’t believe I filtered water until I got to Virginia.  So many sources in the south were springs right out of the best filter there is: Mother Earth.

Back at the tent, it was time for supper and Bic asked if she could join me.  There were logs to lean against or sit over and, sitting comfortably, she and Theo hit it off famously.

We were all novices at bear-bag hanging and I was still trying to work out a clever method to string the bag high off the ground between two trees.  I would use the cable I’d made and the long section of rope, both in Theo’s saddlebag.  Bic needed assistance with her food bag so I offered to hang hers with mine.  I feel quite certain, hanging was not necessary and as I make this comment, I remember that Rolling Resupplier, Shrink’s uncle, noted that the bears would not be out until there was sufficient growth and cover for them.  That made sense.  We hung anyway – good to get the practice.

It was a cool, even breezy, night and sleeping was easy.

Day #27   Fontana Lake > Birch Spring Gap 7.4 miles